I tried
Shouting, winning, 
Bringing into the little cupboard
Trophy after trophy
I tried
Feeling her face for that moment
Looking out as young children 
For drops of rain and squirrels…
But she was never surprised
She said she knew
And it was nothing new
Like everything else
She said
“You are more mature than to be wanting
That childish pat on the back!”
But you know how much children love surprises
Giving surprises
And perhaps I was a child too
Away from her cradle 
But feeling abandoned.
After all, there is no other true home
But some things are pretended for a reason
And she ought to have known
Or is it too easily forgotten…
I too am a child
Her child
Or would I ever be one?


Thanks for reading.

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